


Give Me Love Like Never Before, Lately I've Been Craving More

by jojothecr



Series: CCMAwards [3]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: F/M, Infidelity, M/M, Open Marriage, written in 2014
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-19
Updated: 2014-09-19
Packaged: 2018-02-18 01:23:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2330093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jojothecr/pseuds/jojothecr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/1550300">Give Me Love Like Her, 'Cause Lately I've Been Waking Up Alone</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	Give Me Love Like Never Before, Lately I've Been Craving More

Storms in Texas have a different flavor, a different shade of yellow and white, they sound differently; closer, real. She never noticed before, in L.A., how many colors there are to a simple lightning bolt, how every thunder resonates on a different kind of key. She didn't pay attention to many things before.

It's raining, but it's warm, soothing in a way. The trees move in a soft wind, whispering, casting shadows on the lawn, dipping into the pool.

Jensen's standing on the back porch of their new house, so new the smell is still unknown, still alien, alternatively bathed in a bluish-white light, and drowned in darkness.  
He's been quiet for the whole day, distant, albeit here, oozing guilt like another layer of his aftershave, so heavy and sharp it makes it hard to breathe. Impossible to sleep. There's a cigarette in his hand, a tiny dot of red-orange and a silver string of smoke twirling around his fingers, and an unspoken apology in every inhale. He's so beautiful it almost hurts, hers, but not only. Never only hers.

"Bad dream?" she asks as she rests her chin on his shoulder and wraps her arms around his narrow waist, skin and bones, and a square of gauze over the cut from a stunt gone wrong. Warmth. Safety.

He doesn't really move, barely shifts, just enough to rub his unshaven cheek against hers, tender _hi_ and _sorry_ in one. He draws the smoke into his lungs, breathes it out on a sigh. "Bad conscience."

He arrived this morning, but he spent the night in Vancouver. With Jared. And it doesn't matter how many times it happened before, it doesn't matter that she knows, approves, he still feels guilty. She hates it, partly. Loves it more. His reproaches make the hole inside of her a little less dark, almost gray.

"It's alright. Come on. Come back to bed, baby."

He licks his lower lip, nicotine and heat, shakes his head in a silent disagreement. "How can you do this? How can you--?" He trails of, making a little, helpless gesture with his hand, a half circle of ash on black background.

"Let you go, you mean? Let you go to him?"

"No." A beat. "Yeah."

"I didn't want to. I was scared. _Terrified_." She steals the cigarette from his fingers and leans her back against the white wooden railing framing the porch. The first drag tastes like him; bitter sweetness, strength that caresses.

He watches her through the light smoke, green eyes brown in the shadows, want and love in every look.

"I was sure I'd lose you. But the more I tried to keep you away from him, the more I pushed you away... from myself. I realized that I would lose you, if I didn't let you go. I realized that your love for him... doesn't lessen the love you have for me. For us."

"It doesn't."

He reaches for her; a voiceless request, a plea, and she goes, willingly.

They stay like that for a while, ten minutes or twenty, watching the rain, the lightnings painting over the sky canvas. His heart a steady drum against her back, his breath a warm promise in her ear that won't last.

Then, somewhere in the spaces of their new home, Jensen's phone buzzes with an upcoming text message.

Jared is across the border, several states away, but still he's here, right there in between. A ghost of a touch, a memory of a kiss, the little purple thumb-shaped bruise on Jensen's left hipbone. The _good morning_ and _good night_ he never forgets to send.

She pulls away, involuntarily, but needing to, surprised to hear a smile in her voice. "Ah, a good night from Vancouver," she notes.

Jensen sighs and hangs his head, stares down at the damp, honey-colored planks beneath his bare feet.

She touches his shoulder, slides her hand gently over his shoulder-blade, and brushes her lips against his throat, over the two freckles she likes so much. "Say hi from me."

She barely takes one step before his calloused hand curls around her wrist; long, slender fingers stroking her skin. He looks at her like a man accused of a murder, like a culpable. "I love you."

"I know."

And she does, she's never doubted it. He never lied, he was never sneaking behind her back, she always knew. She never asked, won't ask, but she still wonders. What it's like, what he feels when he lets go, lowering the walls he's built, open and vulnerable like he never allows himself to be around her, always the strong one, the arms to fall into, the untouchable. It's not the sex, it's not the love she's envious of, it's the chinks in his armor, the glimpses of him he'll never let her see. Only Jared.

Buying a house right next to Jared's was completely illogical, irrational, it made no sense. It still doesn't. But what actually does? She got married to a man who had already been in love with someone else, she married both on the same day, along with his own family, with all the secrets from before. She's learned to share, learned to love an enemy, a competition. And it wasn't half as difficult as she thought it'd be. She gained a friend, and a kindred spirit with the face of his wife, someone to share this burden with, get drunk with when the pain gets too evident to hide. Because there's a part that whispers, 'yes', and a part that screams, 'no!' 'stay'.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Ed Sheeran


End file.
